


Debrief

by lucymonster



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Drugged Sex, HYDRA Trash Party, Hatred, M/M, rape as punishment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-13
Updated: 2019-01-13
Packaged: 2019-10-09 16:14:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17410100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucymonster/pseuds/lucymonster
Summary: 'What kind of sick fuck attacks his own teammates like that?' A long, angry silence. 'You know what, I’ve had enough. Every time they make us work with him, someone gets hurt. Fuck this. Fuck him.'The Winter Soldier's team are getting sick of his instability.





	Debrief

**Author's Note:**

> Very belatedly importing this from [tumblr](http://lucymonster.tumblr.com/post/149575480579/five-people-who-definitely-didnt-rape-bucky-and).

There are heavy cuffs around his wrists and bright spots of light in front of his eyes. A searing headache spreads out from the base of his skull, and the ground is cold and hard beneath him.

His recent past is a blank. It happens, sometimes.

'...think he’s coming round,' says a voice overhead.

'So fucking kick him again,' says another. 'Psycho piece of shit. I knew this was gonna end badly as soon as they hauled him out of storage.'

'Yeah, well, now’s not the time for revenge. Evac will be here soon...'

Evac. There was a mission, then. Pain throbs behind his eyes. If he could just concentrate –

'Poor Kramarenko will be lucky if he makes it through to evac. What kind of sick fuck attacks his own teammates like that?' A long, angry silence. 'You know what, I’ve had enough. Every time they make us work with him, someone gets hurt. Fuck this. Fuck him.'

The Soldier’s head is spinning. His blood feels sluggish in his veins – he’s been drugged. He can feel his limbs but he can’t make them respond to his commands, and something’s gone wrong and his memory is blank and he has no idea where he is or what’s going on around him.

A heavy sigh from somewhere above. 'This is a bad idea, Bogrov. You know how the General feels about–'

'Is the General here right now? Or are you gonna try and stop me yourself?'

The cuffs around his wrists jangle when he moves them – they’re standard issue handcuffs, not the heavy duty bands they keep back at base for emergencies. He could break out of them, if he wanted to, but it’s like all the strength has gone out of his body. Thoughts roll and rattle inside his head like marbles in a jar. The target – targets – a pale, beady-eyed man and his band of hired guns. An armoured convoy rattling along an unpaved road. The crunch of bones shattering beneath his fist, an animal shout, a stabbing pain in his neck.

'I don’t want any part of this.' A heavy door falls closed behind the retreating speaker. For a moment, there is silence.

Bogrov steps closer. The Soldier forces his eyes open and sees sharp, searing light. If he narrows them to slits he can see the toe of a boot planted right in front of his face.

'You feel pretty helpless right now, don’t you?' says Bogrov. He crouches down, grabs a handful of the Soldier’s hair and lifts. The Soldier gazes blearily up at a thin, pockmarked face sporting a black eye and an expression of twisted hatred. His stomach clenches. 'You’ve had enough sedative to take down a whole herd of elephants. Of course, you’ll probably be fine in a couple of hours. Things always seem to work out for you, don’t they?'

Based on current evidence, the Soldier’s not so sure about that. He tries the handcuffs again. Still no good. His brain and his muscles just aren’t connecting.

'Fucking General’s pet. Never mind if anyone else gets hurt or killed. As long as _you_ come back in one piece, the General pats you on the head and feeds you a hot meal and forgets the rest of us ever existed. You got the mission done, so who cares about the casualties?'

Bogrov lets go of the Soldier’s hair. Without support, his neck gives out and his face hits the ground with a painful smack. His ears are ringing from the impact; he can’t see a thing, but it’s not hard to guess what’s coming next. He tenses and breathes in and out, and waits for the inevitable first blow.

But it doesn’t come. The next thing he feels is a heavy weight pressing down on his legs as Bogrov straddles him. He grabs two rough handfuls of the Soldier’s ass and growls low in his throat, and this isn’t the start of a beating, this is something else, it’s –

Fuck.

He tries to struggle, but his body is impossibly heavy. There’s nothing he can do. Bogrov yanks his pants down over his ass and pulls his cheeks apart and spits, and the world takes on a surreal quality as raw panic rises up in the Soldier’s chest. This isn’t supposed to happen. It’s _not_ happening. He’s trapped in some kind of fucked-up dreamscape, some weird reaction to the drugs they’ve given him.

But it feels real. Bogrov’s cock is forcing him open, hands gripping his hips with a strength that feels brutish in the Soldier’s weakened state. 'How do you like being the bitch for once?' Bogrov snarls, close by his ear, spraying the side of his face with spittle. 'Fuck you. _Fuck_ you.' He’s thrusting, and each thrust is a sick jolt up the Soldier’s spine. He feels invaded, torn wide open, and it feels so real but it isn’t, it _isn’t_.

The dull smack of flesh on flesh sounds in time with the pounding of his head. He tries to block out the pain, tries to let the grogginess take him over. When he wakes up the nightmare will be over.

'Fuck you,' says Bogrov, in time with each savage thrust. 'Fuck you, you psycho piece of shit, fuck you, _fuck_ you.'


End file.
